


Les Mis Drabbles

by beatlelover22



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Allergies, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Enjolras Has Feelings, Enjolras/Grantaire-centric, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Character, Sickfic, Sneezing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-06-29 09:17:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19827103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatlelover22/pseuds/beatlelover22
Summary: Grantaire smelled strongly of sunscreen and the mere thought of spending summer with him brought a smile to Enjolras’ face, despite being less than interested in their current situation.





	1. Hayfever and Handkerchiefs

“Not feeling chilled, are you?” Grantaire asks as he enters the room. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

Enjolras is sitting by the fire and jumps, startled by the sudden noise. “No, no. I’m just—” He sniffles and holds up a novel. “Reading.”

“Ah, of course.”

The flames illuminate Enjolras’ face, casting an orange glow on his eyes, and shadows dance across the walls. He sniffs again, quickly, and catches a sneeze in his hand before tugging his handkerchief out of a pocket. “ _Hh’ **KISSCHH!** Hih’ **ISHHH!**_ ”

Grantaire’s brows furrow in concern. “Bless you. Did you spend a little too much time outside today?” He’s aware of Enjolras’ allergies. Nearly everyone is. Everyone, except—

“ _Eh’ **HFSSCHH**!_” Enjolras buries his twitching nose in the handkerchief and blows. At first, he doesn’t feel Grantaire’s hand resting on his lower back.

“Hayfever, Enjolras,” Grantaire began. “It affects you terribly. I wish you would—” He feels Enjolras’ lungs expand and braces himself for the oncoming sneezing fit.

“ _Heh’ **KSHHH!** Hihh… h-hh… ah’ **SSSSCH!**_ ” Enjolras takes in a shuddering breath while Grantaire sympathetically rubs his back. “It’s n-not h-hayfever,” he manages. “Just the d-dust in this — _hh’ **ISHHH!**_ — room.”

Grantaire pretends to consider this. “Hm. Would you like me to run you a bath? I don’t mind.”

Enjolras’ eyes are red and watery, and he’s sniffing constantly to keep his nose from running. He runs a tired hand across his face. “I can fix my own bath, Grantaire. Just because I — _**HFSCHHH!**_ ”

“You don’t have to explain,” Grantaire says, helping him to his feet. “But I can still help.”


	2. A Small Beast

“First off, Courfeyrac, thank you for letting us meet here today,” Enjolras begins, clearing his throat. “As you all have probably seen on the news, the situation is seeming more d-dire by the day.” 

His breath catches, but not of the others seem to notice. He blinks away an itchy tear that’s threatening to escape, and briefly swipes at his nose.

Joly is in the kitchen, kneading dough for some sort of pastry for the other members of their local chapter of the Young Democrats of America. Combeferre is absent-mindedly picking at a thread in his sweater.

In fact, Grantaire is the only one who’s likely to notice Enjolras’ slight discomfort, but he’s distracted. Maybe he’s high, Enjolras thinks as he continues.

“Regardless, this is an important time not to lose hope,” he says, trying to make eye contact with everyone in the room at least once, as naturally as he can. 

Grantaire is still looking toward the corner of the room and suddenly, Enjolras knows why. Before he can open his mouth to speak again, the room seems to erupt in a chorus of affectionate cooing.

“Courf, you didn’t tell us you’d got a kitten,” Combeferre says, and Enjolras freezes. A kitten?

Grantaire lifts the small, wriggling orange thing into his lap and everything makes sense. It’s as if just seeing the little animal has an effect on Enjolras.

“ _Hh’ **SSCHHH!** Heh’ **RSSSH!**_ ”

“Bless you,” Joly calls out from the kitchen, and Enjolras’ cheeks turn red as Grantaire turns to look at him.

“Excuse me,” Enjolras says, embarrassed. “Nevertheless, we can’t lose hope. The election is only a few months aw-away _ahhh_ …” His voice trails off and Enjolras presses a finger underneath his nose, hard. “It’s only a few months away and now is truly the time to come to-together.”

“Are you okay?” Combeferre asks, watching his friend’s face go slack.

“ _Hah’ **TSCSCHH!**_ ” Enjolras’ head snaps forward with another itchy sneeze before his breath starts hitching again. “ _H-hih! Heh’ **SCSCHH!**_ ”

“Bless you,” the room chorus. Grantaire stands up and the kitten sees its chance and jumps out of his lap.

“Are you allergic?” Grantaire asks him, and Enjolras tries to see him through his watery eyes.

“D-doe,” he begins, his breath trembling. “I’b d— _hh’ **SHHH!**_ — I’b dot.”

“No?”

Enjolras curses his congested voice and irritated nasal passaged. Damn these allergies. “J-jusd a little _d-duhh_ … dust.”

Joly reenters the room after closes the oven door and practically squeals at the sight of a kitten. “Oh my god, Courfeyrac! A kitten?” He picks up the orange tabby and gently spins it around, letting the thing crawl up his sleeve and rest on his chest. “Oh, Enjolras, isn’t he the cutest thing?”

“Mmhmm,” Enjolras nods, trying to inconspicuously get away from it. “ _C-cuh_ … cute,” he manages, pinching his twitching nostrils shut. “ _Hh’ **MMPF!** Hur’ **ESCHHH!**_ ”

“Bless you,” Grantaire says. “You’re sure you’re okay? We can reschedule.”

“D-doe, id’s f-fide.” Enjolras’ eyelashes flutter shut and his nose betrays him. “ _H-hihh… heh’ **ESSTSCH!** Hh’ **TSCSCHH!**_ ”

Combeferre presses a tissue into his hand and Enjolras buries his face in it.

“Um, I’ll make you some tea,” Joly offers, and Enjolras starts to sneeze again.


	3. Gardening Woes

Horticulture 1001 — also known as Organic Gardening for Beginners — was so mind-numbingly boring. 

Enjolras couldn’t help but think he was wasting his time with all this talk of pest control and irrigation systems. And four hours of service on a farm? Yeah, that was definitely a waste of time. But Grantaire was visibly excited, so Enjolras scheduled his service hours with him. It was a spring morning — a Saturday — and the two were clad in jeans, boots, and collared shirts. 

Grantaire smelled strongly of sunscreen and the mere thought of spending summer with him at university brought a smile to Enjolras’ face, despite being less than interested in their current situation. 

“I’m a little surprised you didn’t take the make-up assignment,” Grantaire commented as the two were signing in. 

“What do you mean?” 

In truth, Enjolras hadn’t even glanced at the course syllabus. 

Grantaire laughed. “I mean, you know, what with your allergies and all. I figured you’d want to do the make-up assignment — a research paper on non-starchy vegetables.” 

_Oh shit._ Enjolras’ heart sank when he realized he’d forgotten to take his allergy medication. Spring always transformed him into a hitching, sniveling mess. Why hadn’t he just popped some pretty pink pills this morning?

“Oh, right,” he responded. “I guess I just really wanted to try my hand at seeing where the sausage gets made, you know?”

Grantaire scrunched his nose at the metaphor. “Huh.” 

A teaching assistant called them over to the lower garden, where a rows of carrots and turnips sat, their leaves begging to be tugged. She clapped her hands together and grinned. “Okay, everyone, this is the easy part. I hope everyone remembered to put on sunscreen.”

Enjolras sighed. Today wasn’t his day. His sinuses were already prickling, but he desperately didn’t want to sneeze in front of the whole class. 

“These are most of our root veggies,” she explained, gesturing to the rows of leaves. “We have a really great harvest this year and over here—”

To his utter dismay, Enjolras gasped dramatically and sneezed into his hands. “ _Huh’ **SSCHHH!**_ ” 

“Bless you,” the TA exclaimed enthusiastically, and Enjolras felt his ears turn red. Grantaire smiled. 

* * *

Even when they were kneeling, jeans in the dirt, pulling up vegetables, Enjolras’ condition was no better. His eyes were watering enough that he was forced to wipe with the back of a gloved hand. He sniffled miserably, wishing he had only read the goddamn syllabus. Or perhaps just taken some goddamn Zyrtec. 

“ _H-huh’ **SHUHHH!** Hih’ **TSSHH!**_ ” He sneezed messily to the side and immediately brought up a gloved hand to scrub at his raw, itching nose. 

“Bless you,” Grantaire offered, tossing a carrot into their shared basket. “You gonna be okay?”

Before he could answer, Enjolras buried himself in the collar of his shirt. “ _Hehh… h-heh’ **SHHH!**_ ”

“Bless again.” 

Enjolras sniffled, his nose prickling horribly. “P-probably.” He attempted to crack a small smile but instead ended up sucking air through his teeth. “ _Shi— hih’ **TSCHH!**_ ”

“Bless you,” the TA chorused. “Need a napkin?”

Enjolras shook his head, embarrassed. _A napkin?_ “Doe thag you,” he said, and cringed at his own voice. 

Pulling up carrots was the least of his worries right now. His sinuses were so hypersensitive, anything seemed to set him off: a sniffle, a poorly-timed laugh, a breeze. His nose twitched maddeningly, but before he could sneeze, he felt Grantaire’s hand brush his cheek. 

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ll take a hot shower when we get back to the apartment, alright?”

“ _Ahh_ … ah-alright,” Enjolras said, rubbing his raw nose into his wrist. 


	4. Cute

Grantaire and Enjolras sat outside a local café, sipping their respective drinks. For Grantaire, it was an Irish coffee. Enjolras, sitting across from him, had a matcha latte. 

The two were engaged in friendly chit-chat until a spring breeze seemed to whip up the invisible allergens into the air, irritating Enjolras’ twitching nose. He turned away from Grantaire, his blond curls bouncing in his face. 

“ _H-hih’ **SHH!** Hh’ **GNNT!** Nh’ **XXT!**_ ” He sniffled, recovering, and let a finger trail under his nose, alleviating the itch somewhat. 

When he glanced back up, he noticed Grantaire was staring at him. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” Grantaire said, laughing. “It’s just that you have those — what shall we call them — kitten-esque sneezes? And it doesn’t help that you’re a very allergic person. You command the room and in some ways, your nose does too.” 

Enjolras flushed, annoyed. “I do not. And even if they do sound like that, I _c-cahhh_ … can’t help it.” He took a sip of his latte, sulking all the while. 

“I know, I know. It’s just…” Grantaire trailed off, unsure of where he was going. 

“It’s just — h-hang on,” Enjolras sputtered, shakily placing his cup down. “ _Nh’ **TSH!** Ah’ **NGGT!** H-hih… Hh’ **XXT!**_ ” 

He sniffled, scrubbing at his nose, while Grantaire watched. “It’s just what?” Enjolras asked him. 

“It’s just cute,” Grantaire said decidedly. “It’s cute.”


End file.
